


no more straight lines

by KelseyO



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Gen, Headcanon, finale rewrite, season three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:03:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelseyO/pseuds/KelseyO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His eyes change, like he can't believe what he's seeing in front of him, and she wonders if it's the same face she made in the kitchen on their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no more straight lines

**Author's Note:**

> Rewrite of the Spencer/Toby diner scene. Title from "Faded" by Barcelona.

_[prelude]_

.

Spencer Hastings doesn't cry in bathrooms. She doesn't cry in doorways, either, or in cars; she doesn't avoid her best friends at all costs; she doesn't have nightmares about gloved hands around her neck, about her boyfriend leaving her breathless for all the wrong reasons.

And yet, here she is.

"I haven't told you guys the truth," she says through the lump in her throat, wiping at her eyes as she watches Emily's change from hard and defensive to warm and concerned.

"What d'you mean?" she asks quietly, "What truth?"

Spencer almost laughs, because there are about ten she could choose from, but as her face crumples she decides to go with the simplest, most basic version. "That Toby and I broke up," she chokes out, and she knows the emotion in her voice doesn't quite match the ordinariness, the mediocrity, of the statement, but accuracy isn't nearly as important to her as it used to be.

"You did?" Emily breathes, and Spencer manages a few small nods. "What happened?"

Those two words again; the question they're always asking their parents, their classmates, each other. "Um, I'm not really ready to talk about it," Spencer mumbles, hating that she sounds like an overdramatic thirteen-year-old, but she just… can't. "Can we please just keep this between us?"

Emily nods. "Yeah," she whispers, wrapping her arms around Spencer in a tight hug.

Spencer wonders if Emily can feel the five hundred pound weight on her chest; feel the way she isn't breathing quite right; feel her heartbeat pulsing what she's sure is Morse Code for  _He's gone_.

.

.

_How do you keep going when the worst thing has happened? What do you have to change inside to survive? Who do you have to become?_

These are the questions she thinks about, now.

.

.

She kind of likes the hoodie; she's not sure if it's the color or the symbolism woven within the threads, but it makes her feel invisible, safe.

(The fact that she's finding security in the thing that usually makes her feel the  _least_  secure doesn't scare her as much as it should.)

The door opens and someone shuffles in her direction, but she's still not expecting it when Toby joins her in the booth; his footsteps have changed.

"Hanna got the job," he says, and the hair on the back of her neck stands up because she's never heard him use this voice before.

"I know." She lifts her head, finally looks at him.

His eyes change, like he can't believe what he's seeing in front of him, and she wonders if it's the same face she made in the kitchen on their anniversary. "Spencer," he murmurs, almost more to himself than to her.

"When I was in Radley, Mona told me that you were alive. I wanted to believe her, but until now…" Her throat tightens and her lips tremble. "Back in the woods… was that you? Were you a part of it?"

He avoids her eyes. "Mona told me after."

"And you let me believe that you were dead?" Spencer swallows another wave of emotion and this time she's the one to look away.

"Everything I've done was so I could protect you."

Spencer starts to trace a pattern on the tabletop with her fingernail. "Protect me from what, exactly?" she asks, her tone neutral. "Anonymous text messages? Threats against me… against my friends? Physical harm?" She pauses, looking him square in the eye again. "Oh, wait."

"Please let me explain—"

"The only difference between you and the other 'A's," she says slowly, taking care to enunciate each word, "is that you say you do it because you love me." Spencer wets her lips. "And that's not good enough."

Toby looks miserable. "Spence, I know it looks bad, but I  _promise_  I wouldn't have done any of it if it wasn't—"

"Yeah, you said that already," she interrupts, picking at the edge of her sleeve.

"I'm so sorry," he says softly, reaching across the table to take her hand, but she folds her arms across her chest.

"That's not good enough, either."

Toby opens his mouth to speak but closes it again.

"I thought everything about our relationship was a lie. Then I thought you were dead. Then I thought living in a mental institution was easier than living in the real world." Spencer slowly pushes her hair out of her face, biting her bottom lip hard. "You have  _no idea_  what you've done."

His jaw muscles clench and unclench. "I didn't want to do it. Any of it. It was either this, or—"

"Or what? Be honest with me? Fight 'A'  _with_  me, at my  _side_ , instead of playing evil  _Gossip Girl_ behind my back and calling it protection?"

"Spencer…"

"Everything I did," she says, staring at the empty space to the left of his head, "Lashing out at people who didn't deserve it… telling Mona I'd join her… kidnapping a seven-year-old… I had nothing left to lose. So I just… went for it, because it didn't matter anymore. But  _you_ …" Spencer's eyes shift to his. "You  _had_  to have known you might lose me." Her voice isn't nearly as hard or strong as it was a second ago.

Toby's eyes are glassy now. "Spencer, that was the  _last_  thing I wanted."

She looks at him for a long moment before leaning across the table and gently cupping his cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth as she brings her face closer, so close to his. Their breath mixes, and she thinks of what his kisses used to feel like.

"I never want to see you again," she whispers, then backs away and gets up from the booth.

"Spencer, wait!"

She stops. "If I say it's for your own good, will it hurt any less?"

He stares up at her and a single tear falls down his cheek.

Spencer's face is ice. "I didn't think so." She turns and walks away, out of the diner, and chucks the sweatshirt and gloves into the dumpster at the edge of the parking lot.


End file.
